Ghosts

I stand in your way.

You look down.


You don't hear me.

I yell.


You run away.

I chase.


You don't see me.

I throw things.


You don't care?

I break things.


I am a ghost.

But it is you who haunt me.


Ghosts just want to be seen.

This poem I just wrote.

Common sense is not so common.

Humanity is not so humane.

Anger isn't so angry,

it's more like amplified pain.


The forgotten never forget

The broken never take brakes

Eyes never cry,

Heartache simply aches.

Angry phase vs Angry face

An angry phase can be quite productive.

An angry face is not.

Don't confuse the two.

Feelings...the analogy.

Sometimes, it really isn't you, it's them.

Sometimes you JUST don't understand & have to accept that you never will.

Sometimes you get to hurt... But at least you're feeling. Tears are a sign that you're alive, breathing & feeling. It's what they wait for when you're born...to hear you cry. It says you're human. It says you're alive. When you're a child, you don't know why you cry or why it hurts, you just know it does. You don't know what you're feeling, good or bad. You just know when it's good, you like it & when it's bad, you cry. When you grow up, you start connecting your emotions. You identify them with actions, consequences & situations. You acknowledge them, try not to let them drive you around or you get lost... But you sure as shit don't handcuff them, gag them & stuff them in the trunk & pretend they don't exist. Because they do. They exist & if you pretend they don't, they're back there screaming to get out, crying, begging & pleading. Some people do that, however. They shove their emotions in the trunk, turn the radio up & keep driving. The screams get louder, they're crying & driving around & end up somewhere & they're not sure how. What they don't realize is, no matter how high you turn up the music or try to block them out, they're still there. Then, all of a sudden, they're overwhelmed & disconnected. The tears, the pain, the love... But they can't feel it because they don't know how, they've kept it locked in the trunk far too long.

I'm happy to say my emotions, my feelings sit in the passenger seat, perhaps intoxicated, attempting to take over the steering wheel at times. But I can see them, deal with them, occasionally they distract me. Sometimes I forget to put a seatbelt on them to keep them safe, sometimes they give shitty directions... But they pick the best music & have made for some of the most unforgettable, unregrettable trips/journeys of my life.

Happy Valentines Day...bitches

"Society makes you believe that you need to have someone to be complete. I do have someone... I have me - finally" - Me

Yes, I quoted myself.

With Valentines Day approaching, I have heard such debate about being single versus being in a relationship. The most recent is a friend of mine is catching a lot of flack for posting "single status updates" on Facebook, which quite frankly, pisses me off. People in a relationship can post their fluffy "I am happier than Jesus riding Santa's sleigh to a unicorn party" posts, but you cannot do the same for being single? Isn't the point to be happy? Why does it have to be in a relationship? Why is everything so fucking categorized? Why does society tell us we have to be in a relationship or married to be doing the right things in life? Then you look at divorce rate or hear people complain about their spouse/partner and being cheated on or losing themself and think "WELL THAT SOUNDS FUCKING AWESOME!"...nope. So, you are condemning me for NOT being in something that is set up to fail? That makes complete sense.

Our inner dialogue...that we do not even know we are having likely, sounds like this: "I am attracted to them, I should probably be in a relationship with them. I have been in a relationship with them for a while, we should probably get married. We are married, we should probably have kids."

Hey inner dialogue, shut the fuck up.

MY NEW INNER DIALOGUE: "Are you happy? Yes? Do that."

If you are married or in a relationship and it works, great... zippetydoodahday for you. That is AWESOME. But for those of us who are not, stop making us feel bad. Stop asking to set us up. Stop asking if we are seeing anyone YET. Maybe we are, maybe we are not, why does it MATTER... shouldn't you be asking us "are you happy?"

I will celebrate Valentines Day because for the first time in YEARS, I am loving myself and I've got some new inner dialogue going. And I am HAPPY, yes, happy. With my nonconventional, non-label wearing, not society approved, out of the norm life... being happy.


So Happy Valentines Day. I hope you all are happy, no matter what your situation.

Too much

The only thing worse than being told you don't care, is being told that you care too much.

It means that what you care so deeply for, doesn't care that much about you.

If someone tells you that you don't care, it just means you are not doing a good job of showing you care & can do better. You can change that.

The other leaves you feeling stupid. And vulnerable.

Fuck being vulnerable.

The Beast

DISCLAIMER: This poem is disturbing. And part of some way overdue therapy.


The Beast

He held her tight, she attempted to doze
The air was so cold, but her temperature rose
She cannot move or she’ll rouse the beast
If he wakes, he’ll turn to her for a feast.
Lying in the dark, ignoring her bladder
Wanting to run, but she knew that he’d have her
By the back of her hair if she tried it again
To the face, on the floor, hold her down and then
Don’t move, bitch. I am not done
Then close her eyes & pretend it was fun
Say my name, say you love it
In her face, he would spit
Tears and she proclaimed her love
Internally cursing the lord above
His nails digging in to her wrists
Felt better than digging between her hips
Haha cry bitch, cry you whore
That means you just want more
Her hands pinned, can’t wipe the tears
Her heart pounds, can’t hide the fears
But he sleeps now, she has to pee still
Don’t move or he’ll rouse & she might have to kill
Her spirit inside, while he’s inside her
Pretend to sleep, he mustn’t stir
Her heart pounds, Can’t wake the beast.
Her bladder screams, Or he’ll have his feast.